Lend Me Your Ears: Great Speeches in History Page 12
“Gentlemen,” he apologized, “you will permit me to put on my spectacles, for I have not only grown gray but almost blind in the service of my country.”
Biographer James Thomas Flexner writes, “This simple statement achieved what all Washington’s rhetoric and all his arguments had been unable to achieve. The officers were instantly in tears, and, from behind the shining drops, their eyes looked with love at the commander who had led them all so far and long. Washington quietly finished reading the congressman’s letter. He knew the battle was won, and avoiding, with his instinctive sense of the dramatic, any anticlimax, he walked out of the hall….”
Did he plan to use his infirmity to wring their hearts that way? Was his remark, so felicitously and poignantly phrased, totally spontaneous? We’ll never know, but the officers then voted to ask Washington to forward their request to Congress, the granting of which would “prevent any further machinations of designing men.”
Richard Price, an English Cleric, Hails the Revolutions
“Tremble, all ye oppressors of the world!”
Richard Price, a nonconformist English clergyman, wrote pamphlets on ethical, political, and economic subjects, inveighed against the oppression of American colonists, and supported the tide of revolution that swept across the end of the eighteenth century. His radical sermon “On the Love of Our Country” was preached to a Protestant Dissenters’ society on November 4, 1789; supporting political upheaval in France, it seemed to associate the nonconformist split from the Church of England a century earlier (the Glorious Revolution of 1688–89) with the ideals of the French Revolution, and was the “red rag” that drew the parliamentarian Edmund Burke—who saw anarchy and atheism on the march in Europe—into the conservative forefront.
The peroration beginning with the exclamatory “What an eventful period is this!” is a classic because it rivets the audience by addressing discrete, contrasting groups. The penultimate paragraph is addressed directly to the “friends of freedom” and begins with the imperative “Be encouraged”; the final paragraph is addressed to the “oppressors” and directs them to “tremble.” In this way, the orator divides the world into good and bad, right and wrong, and thrusts upon his listeners his unmistakable stand.
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WE ARE MET to thank God for that event in this country to which the name of the Revolution has been given; and which, for more than a century, it has been usual for the friends of freedom, and more especially Protestant Dissenters, under the title of the Revolution Society, to celebrate with expressions of joy and exultation. My highly valued and excellent friend who addressed you on this occasion last year has given you an interesting account of the principal circumstances that attended this event, and of the reasons we have for rejoicing in it. By a bloodless victory, the fetters which despotism had been long preparing for us were broken; the rights of the people were asserted, a tyrant expelled, and a sovereign of our own choice appointed in his room. Security was given to our property, and our consciences were emancipated. The bounds of free inquiry were enlarged; the volume in which are the words of eternal life was laid more open to our examination; and that era of light and liberty was introduced among us by which we have been made an example to other kingdoms and became the instructors of the world. Had it not been for this deliverance, the probability is that, instead of being thus distinguished, we should now have been a base people, groaning under the infamy and misery of popery and slavery. Let us, therefore, offer thanksgivings to God, the author of all our blessings.
…We have particular reason, as Protestant Dissenters, to rejoice on this occasion. It was at this time we were rescued from persecution, and obtained the liberty of worshiping God in the manner we think most acceptable to him. It was then our meetinghouses were opened, our worship was taken under the protection of the law, and the principles of toleration gained a triumph. We have, therefore, on this occasion, peculiar reasons for thanksgiving. But let us remember that we ought not to satisfy ourselves with thanksgivings. Our gratitude, if genuine, will be accompanied with endeavors to give stability to the deliverance our country has obtained, and to extend and improve the happiness with which the Revolution has blessed us. Let us, in particular, take care not to forget the principles of the Revolution. This society has, very properly, in its reports, held out these principles, as an instruction to the public. I will only take notice of the three following:
First: the right to liberty of conscience in religious matters.
Secondly: the right to resist power when abused. And,
Thirdly: the right to choose our own governors; to cashier them for misconduct; and to frame a government for ourselves.
On these three principles, and more especially the last, was the Revolution founded. Were it not true that liberty of conscience is a sacred right; that power abused justifies resistance; and that civil authority is a delegation from the people—were not, I say, all this true, the Revolution would have been not an assertion but an invasion of rights; not a revolution but a rebellion. Cherish in your breasts this conviction, and act under its influence; detecting the odious doctrines which, had they been acted upon in this country, would have left us at this time wretched slaves—doctrines which imply that God made mankind to be oppressed and plundered, and which are no less a blasphemy against him than an insult on common sense….
You may reasonably expect that I should now close this address to you. But I cannot yet dismiss you. I must not conclude without recalling, particularly, to your recollection a consideration to which I have more than once alluded, and which, probably, your thoughts have been all along anticipating—a consideration with which my mind is impressed more than I can express. I mean, the consideration of the favorableness of the present times to all exertions in the cause of public liberty.
What an eventful period is this! I am thankful that I have lived to it; and I could almost say, “Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace, for mine eyes have seen thy salvation.” I have lived to see a diffusion of knowledge which has undermined superstition and error—I have lived to see the rights of men better understood than ever; and nations panting for liberty which seemed to have lost the idea of it. I have lived to see thirty millions of people, indignant and resolute, spurning at slavery, and demanding liberty with an irresistible voice; their king led in triumph, and an arbitrary monarch surrendering himself to his subjects. After sharing in the benefits of one revolution, I have been spared to be a witness to two other revolutions, both glorious. And now, methinks, I see the ardor for liberty catching and spreading; a general amendment beginning in human affairs; the dominion of priests giving way to the dominion of reason and conscience.
Be encouraged, all ye friends of freedom and writers in its defense! The times are auspicious. Your labors have not been in vain. Behold kingdoms, admonished by you, starting from sleep, breaking their fetters, and claiming justice from their oppressors! Behold, the light you have struck out, after setting America free, reflected to France, and there kindled into a blaze that lays despotism in ashes and warms and illuminates Europe!
Tremble, all ye oppressors of the world! Take warning all ye supporters of slavish governments and slavish hierarchies! Call no more (absurdly and wickedly) reformation innovation. You cannot now hold the world in darkness. Struggle no longer against increasing light and liberality. Restore to mankind their rights, and consent to the correction of abuses, before they and you are destroyed together.
Revolutionist Georges-Jacques Danton Demands Death for the Squeamish
“To conquer we have need to dare, to dare again, always to dare!”
Parisian Lawyer Georges-Jacques Danton was a tyrant in revolutionary clothing. He established himself as a patriot by helping lead the storming of the Tuileries in August 1792 to overthrow the Bourbon monarchy, but his passionate oratory and merciless zeal were directed more to the acquisition of power than to the dream of democracy. He professed not to care for popularity: “Let France be fre
e, though my name be cursed.” A few weeks after the success of the Revolution, and almost two years before the Reign of Terror, which led to his own execution on the guillotine, Danton made this speech on the defense of the new republic, already threatened by invading Prussians and Austrians. Though it is remembered for the line enshrining audacity, Danton’s rallying call to the sans-culottes to defend the republic contained a proposal of the most draconian penalty for dissent.
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IT SEEMS A satisfaction for the ministers of a free people to announce to them that their country will be saved, All are stirred, all are enthused, all burn to enter the combat.
You know that Verdun is not yet in the power of our enemies and that its garrison swears to immolate the first who breathes a proposition of surrender.
One portion of our people will guard our frontiers, another will dig and arm the entrenchments, the third with pikes will defend the interior of our cities, Paris will second these great efforts. The commissioners of the Commune will solemnly proclaim to the citizens the invitation to arm and march to the defense of the country. At such a moment you can proclaim that the capital deserves the esteem of all France. At such a moment this National Assembly becomes a veritable committee of war. We ask that you concur with us in directing this sublime movement of the people, by naming commissioners to second and assist all these great measures. We ask that anyone refusing to give personal service or to furnish arms shall meet the punishment of death. We ask that proper instructions be given to the citizens to direct their movements. We ask that carriers be sent to all the departments to notify them of the decrees that you proclaim here. The tocsin we shall sound is not the alarm signal of danger; it orders the charge on the enemies of France. To conquer we have need to dare, to dare again, always to dare! And France will be saved!
(Pour les vaincre, il nous faut de l’audace; encore de l’audace, toujours de l’audace; et la France est sauvée.)
Napoleon Exhorts His Troops against France’s Enemies
“Let them tremble!”
After making a reputation for ferocity by giving a crowd of Parisian rioters what he called “a whiff of grapeshot”—and killing one hundred—Napoleon Bonaparte made his bid for power in 1796. He sold the French regime on a plan for an Italian campaign, married Josephine, and set out at the head of a ragtag French army.
He understood, as few commanders did, the need to take care of the essential needs of his men; “An army marches on its stomach” is a remark attributed to him, as well as “The first virtue in a soldier is endurance of fatigue; courage is only the second virtue.” He determined to keep his men fed by living off the land in Italy, to rest them when possible, and to instill in them his own sense of destiny.
All his addresses to his troops began with the salutation “Soldiers!” He put pride in the word and, in crediting “his” army with triumphs, had no need to credit himself. In his oratory, he employed the internal dialogue (“Shall it be said of us…?”) and the visionary quotation to promise fame (“Your fellow citizens, pointing you out, shall say, ‘There goes one who…’”). Winston Churchill would use the same history-conscious construction in his predictive quotation “This was their finest hour.”
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SOLDIERS: YOU ARE precipitated like a torrent from the heights of the Apennines; you have overthrown and dispersed all that dared to oppose your march. Piedmont, rescued from Austrian tyranny, is left to its natural sentiments of regard and friendship to the French. Milan is yours; and the republican standard is displayed throughout all Lombardy. The dukes of Parma and Moderna are indebted for their political existence only to your generosity.
The army, which so proudly menaced you, has had no other barrier than its dissolution to oppose your invincible courage. The Po, the Tessin, the Adds, could not retard you a single day. The vaunted bulwarks of Italy were insufficient. You swept them with the same rapidity that you did the Apennines. Those successes have carried joy into the bosom of your country. Your representatives decreed a festival dedicated to your victories, and to be celebrated throughout all the communes of the republic. Now your fathers, your mothers, your wives, and your sisters will rejoice in your success, and take pride in their relation to you.
Yes, soldiers, you have done much; but more still remains for you to do. Shall it be said of us, that we know how to conquer but not to profit by our victories? Shall posterity reproach us with having found a Capua in Lombardy? But already I see you fly to arms. You are fatigued with an inactive repose. You lament the days that are lost to your glory! Well, then, let us proceed; we have other forced marches to make, other enemies to subdue, more laurels to acquire, and more injuries to avenge.
Let those who have unsheathed the daggers of civil war in France, who have basely assassinated our ministers, who have burnt our ships at Toulon—let them tremble! The knell of vengeance has already tolled! But to quiet the apprehensions of the people, we declare ourselves the friends of all, and particularly of those who are the descendants of Brutus, of Scipio, and those other great men whom we have taken for our models.
To reestablish the capital, to replace the statues of those heroes who have rendered it immortal, to rouse the Roman people entranced in so many ages of slavery—this shall be the fruit of your victories. It will be an epoch for the admiration of posterity; you will enjoy the immortal glory of changing the aspect of affairs in the finest part of Europe. The free people of France, not regardless of moderation, shall accord to Europe a glorious peace; but it will indemnify itself for the sacrifices of every kind which it has been making for six years past. You will again be restored to your firesides and homes; and your fellow citizens, pointing you out, shall say, “There goes one who belonged to the army of Italy!”
Garibaldi Prepares Italy’s Guerrillas for Battle
“The slave shall show at last to his free brothers a sharpened sword forged from the links of his fetters.”
Giuseppe Garibaldi was among the first to understand how irregular troops—guerrillas, as they later came to be called—could wear down and defeat regular armies. He learned his profession as patriot and soldier under revolutionary leader Mazzini, and was condemned to death after the unsuccessful insurrection of 1832. Garibaldi escaped to South America and sharpened his command skills leading guerrillas in Brazil and Argentina; using that experience, he returned to Italy in 1859 to rout the Austrians for the Piedmont government. At the head of his thousand Redshirts, he seized Sicily and—after serving as dictator of half of what is now Italy for a couple of months—turned his nearly united nation over to King Victor Emmanuel II. Garibaldi is remembered as the unifier of the Italian nation; he might be more familiar to Americans had he taken up Abraham Lincoln’s offer of a command in our Civil War.
This speech loses flavor in the translation, not only between languages, but from spoken exhortation to written word. But the unifier’s call beyond his troops to Italian women—“Cast away all the cowards from your embraces; they will give you only cowards for children”—has a ring that leaps off the page.
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WE MUST NOW consider the period which is just drawing to a close as almost the last stage of our national resurrection, and prepare ourselves to finish worthily the marvelous design of the elect of twenty generations, the completion of which Providence has reserved for this fortunate age.
Yes, young men, Italy owes to you an undertaking which has merited the applause of the universe. You have conquered and you will conquer still, because you are prepared for the tactics that decide the fate of battles. You are not unworthy of the men who entered the ranks of a Macedonian phalanx, and who contended not in vain with the proud conquerors of Asia. To this wonderful page in our country’s history another more glorious still will be added, and the slave shall show at last to his free brothers a sharpened sword forged from the links of his fetters.
To arms, then, all of you! all of you! And the oppressors and the mighty shall disappear like dust. You, too, women, ca
st away all the cowards from your embraces; they will give you only cowards for children, and you who are the daughters of the land of beauty must bear children who are noble and brave. Let timid doctrinaires depart from among us to carry their servility and their miserable fears elsewhere. This people is its own master. It wishes to be the brother of other peoples, but to look on the insolent with a proud glance, not to grovel before them imploring its own freedom. It will no longer follow in the trail of men whose hearts are foul. No! No! No!
Providence has presented Italy with Victor Emmanuel. Every Italian should rally round him. By the side of Victor Emmanuel every quarrel should be forgotten, all rancor depart. Once more I repeat my battle cry: “To arms, all—all of you!” If March 1861 does not find one million of Italians in arms, then alas for liberty, alas for the life of Italy. Ah, no, far be from me a thought which I loathe like poison. March of 1861, or if need be February, will find us all at our post—Italians of Calatafimi, Palermo, Ancona, the Volturno, Castelfidardo, and Isernia, and with us every man of this land who is not a coward or a slave. Let all of us rally round the glorious hero of Palestro and give the last blow to the crumbling edifice of tyranny. Receive, then, my gallant young volunteers, at the honored conclusion of ten battles, one word of farewell from me.
I utter this word with deepest affection and from the very bottom of my heart. Today I am obliged to retire, but for a few days only. The hour of battle will find me with you again, by the side of the champions of Italian liberty. Let those only return to their homes who are called by the imperative duties which they owe to their families, and those who by their glorious wounds have deserved the credit of their country. These, indeed, will serve Italy in their homes by their counsel, by the very aspect of the scars which adorn their youthful brows. Apart from these, let all others remain to guard our glorious banners. We shall meet again before long to march together to the redemption of our brothers who are still slaves of the stranger. We shall meet again before long to march to new triumphs.